


Know Your Own Happiness

by TomyrisDarkwarden



Series: Truths Universal [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Actual BAMF Jesse McCree, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Austenland (movie), Alternate Universe - No yakuza, Angst, Big Broody Brother Hanzo Shimada, F/M, Fictionalized illness based on real illness, Genji Shimada is a Good Brother, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Modernish Setting, Overbearing Parents, References to Illness, Romance, Shameless Use of Poetry, Shimada boys are literary AF, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Austenland (movie) (maybe), Spoilers for Pride and Prejudice, Spoilers for Sense and Sensibility, Unspecified Crisis, snuggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-01-10 21:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomyrisDarkwarden/pseuds/TomyrisDarkwarden
Summary: Hanzo Shimada is a single man of large fortune. With his father pushing for a career he has no interest in, and his mother bound and determined to see him married to an eligible bachelorette, his brother presents him with the only proper solution.A vacation.To the world’s only Immersive Regency Era Live Action Role Play Experience.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At long last the fic I have been threatening the McHanzo fandom with since last August is finaly here!  
> I originally wanted to finish the whole thing before I posted any of it, but... it's complicated.  
> Anyway, I know the first 4 chapters are good to post and should be posting them every Wednesday(?) for at least the next week.  
> I have some stuff I may want to work through for chapter 5 so I may end up stuttering for a second, but I am so close to done with this, guys, I promise that it isn't going to go dead.
> 
> Also I tagged Overbearing Parents and I feel like I should warn people that if (like me) you have issues with manipulative parents, (in this case, especially as regards marriage/kids) this may get a little triggery. Please be careful.
> 
> Wow this looks a lot longer on my phone...

Sitting on his bed, Genji closed his worn out copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, running his finger tips down the damaged spine. It would have to be replaced soon.

He didn’t mind.

The story, not the book, was his security blanket and had been for years since some one night stand he’d had in high school insisted it was amazing and in a drunken haze one night he watched the movie.

He watched it again sober and was shocked and amazed by the sheer amount of shade every single character had thrown.  
He fell in love with it instantly.

Before long he had become obsessed with all of Austen's works, the elegance, the romance, the grandeur, and the way that characters who reminded him of his own elitist relatives always got some form of comeuppance. 

Something about the incongruity of his love for regency literature with his playboy, socialite lifestyle appealed to him as well. It was his preferred escape from the expectations of his family as well as his own personal issues.

The Shimada family had been a fixture of Hanamura for centuries, tracing their lineage from great feudal lords and in the modern era producing great doctors, engineers and politicians. Rumors of Yakuza ties may have been true in his Great Grandfather’s day, but the Shimada had since found ways to keep their noses clean while maintaining their status.

A knock on the door startled Genji out of his reverie.  
“Come in.” The door slid open and Genji's older brother, Hanzo appeared.  
“What did the doctor say?”  
A small smile spread across Genji's face.  
“Good morning, Anija.”  
Hanzo scowled in the way that told Genji he was poignantly not rolling his eyes.  
“Good morning, Genji. What did the doctor say?”  
“Well I don’t have chlamydia. So, you know, dodged that bullet.”  
This time Hanzo did roll his eyes.  
“I’m serious.”  
“So am I. He also said that you need to stop worrying about me and mind your own buisness. Your blood pressure must be through the roof. Not good for a man your age, Hanzo. He suggests you get laid.” Hanzo scowled again, this time in frustration and Genji released a sigh.  
“There’s nothing for it right now, Anija.” He said more softly this time, “I will let you know if that changes.”  
Hanzo rolled his eyes again, but entered the room properly to place a kiss on his younger brother’s neon green head before ducking back out.  
“You do that. Are we still having lunch?”  
“Of course.” Genji said with a sly grin.

He hated worrying his Anija. Harsh as the expectations that fell on him were, Genji knew that the majority of the burden fell on Hanzo as the heir.

Despite Hanzo's love of anything to do with the book industry, Sojiro Shimada's first wish for his oldest son had been politics. Hanzo, however, had neither aptitude nor love for it and the two had almost come to blows on multiple occasions throughout Hanzo’s teenage years.

They had finally compromised on business and Sojiro had squeezed Hanzo into a place within the company he had inherited from his own father. The nepotism had sat poorly with Hanzo despite the fact that he excelled in management and even enjoyed it, in his own way. 

Perhaps, Genji thought, he should arrange a blind date for Hanzo. Genji was already grabbing his phone by the time he remembered how the last blind date, set up courtesy of their mother, had gone.

Scratch that then.

Of course, over the course of the morning his Jane Austen Chat board had blown up.   
Curious as they weren’t a very vocal bunch. At least they weren’t when there wasn’t some new academic analysis to salivate over or a probably sexually explicit retelling of one of her works. 

Whatever it had been about the discussion had been long and varied.  
His phone chimed with a personal message. It was Sombra, an online friend from Mexico with a similar contrarian approach to literature.

_::Have you been keeping up with the chat?::_ She asked.

_::No. Long day already. Give me the rundown?::_

He clicked on the link she posted with a curiosity that only got more morbid as he explored the website it connected to. Genji mumbled to himself, enraptured. He needed to experience this.

“Austenland.”

 

888

 

Hanzo tossed the report back onto his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. If he had to look at another productivity spreadsheet he was going to scream. Unfortunately he was currently stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On a good day he actually kind of liked his job. He enjoyed seeing the way the cogs of a machine fit together and somehow never had to struggle to remember that there were real people on the other end of those numbers depending on him to shield them from the ravages of the system. On a bad day the specter of the nepotism that had landed him here plagued him, and his “team” went out of their way to remind him that he didn’t belong. 

Today that meant looking at making cuts.

This on top of an argument with his father, on top of Genji’s doctor visit had made for a ragged mental state.

On his desk under the report he had just cast aside was a manila folder containing the picture and profile of yet another eligible young woman. His mother was apparently visiting _her_ mother this very morning and would be scheduling yet another marriage interview. 

It seemed as though getting Hanzo married was the delight of his mother’s life. He vaguely wondered how she would entertain herself if both he and Genji ever did get married.

On that note, how she would react if he told her that she was looking on the wrong side of the gender spectrum for a match for him?  
It was not a train of thought he was particularly keen on following.

Hanzo heaved another sigh and looked at his phone.  
It was about time to meet Genji over at Rikimaru for lunch. On one hand it would get him away from the company, on the other it meant an hour closer to another grueling interview.  
He grabbed his jacket and managed to be the only occupant of the elevator down to the first floor.

Rikimaru, a favored ramen shop for both him and Genji since their youth, was only a couple of blocks from his office. He attempted to clear his head on the walk over, but the morning’s events kept swirling around, refusing to let him be.   
They only settled once he walked into the restaurant. 

He spied Genji and slid into the seat across from him.  
There was a spark in his baby brother’s eyes that Hanzo knew did not bode well for him. The fact that Genji was practically vibrating in his seat made his stomach sink even further.

“Out with it.” He said.  
“So you like books, right?” Genji asked, completely unable to contain his excitement.  
Hanzo simply fixed him with a level stare.

“Yes, yes, dumb opening. I don’t care. You know that I am a fan of Jane Austen, no?”

Another dumb question. Genji had been trying to get Hanzo to watch film adaptations of his favorite works for years and Hanzo always, ALWAYS, managed to fall asleep less than half way through.

It wasn’t that Hanzo disliked classic literature. He adored most literary fiction. It was just that the flighty romance fantasies of every teenaged girl held no appeal to him. It seemed the epitome of every dumb romantic comedy, a genre he generally despised. Genji, of course, argued that this was only because every modern dumb romantic comedy could trace its lineage to the books, but Hanzo didn’t really see how that made any difference. It was all still dumb romantic comedy.

Genji seemed to hold his breath waiting for some sort of reaction from Hanzo until he couldn’t actually handle it anymore and the words came spilling out.

“I want us to go to the UK for two weeks to participate in a Regency Era Live Action Role Play!”  
“No.”   
“But Anija-!”  
“Genji, no. I have no interest in some dinner theatre mystery, especially not one that lasts two weeks. I have a lot to do here, and you should probably not be traveling anyway.”  
“I’ve already spoken to the doctor. He has ties in England, if I need to I can go to a hospital there, it’s not a big deal.”  
“My answer is no.”  
“Hanzo, I wouldn’t ask, but I can’t go on my own. Mother and Father would have a fit. Besides. This is my one chance to ever do anything like this. Maybe my only chance.”

And of course out came the goddamned puppy eyes.  
“No, Genji.” 

Hanzo could feel his resolve crumbling. He looked away before it dissolved completely.

They sat in silence for a long moment while Genji sulked.   
Despite staring at the wall, Hanzo could still feel the almost ridiculous anime eyeshine of his brother’s pleading gaze.

“When is it?” He asked, against his better judgement.  
“We would need to leave on the third of next month. Does this mean you will come? I can take care of all the arrangements.”  
“It means I will think about it.”

If Genji’s excitement had been irrepressible before, he practically glowed now.   
The mischievous spark had also grown into a full blown blaze and Hanzo didn’t like his chances.

Still, it was difficult to tell his little brother ‘no’ and stick to it. 

Lunch passed far more quickly than Hanzo would have liked, Genji telling him raunchy stories about his latest exploits and Hanzo gently chiding his younger brother in turn.

The walk back to his office was pleasant enough to distract him from the impending dataset still on his desk. As the elevator doors opened, however, his stomach dropped at the sight of his mother sitting in his office with her own barely contained excitement.

“Mother,” He said in greeting.  
“I was not expecting you. I was just having lunch with Genji.”  
She smiled softly at that.  
“I’m happy you two have seemed to grow closer the last few years. I know it’s been hard.”  
Her smile faltered and her eyes began to mist as they always did when Genji was brought up lately.

Anxiety churned in Hanzo’s stomach. He had wanted to distract her from the topic of marriage, not upset her. He would just have to indulge his mother.  
“I take it the preliminary interview went well today?”  
His words seemed to have the desired effect and she suddenly beamed again.  
“Her name is Keiko. What’s this?” She practically yelled; her expression pulling another one eighty at the sight of Hanzo’s ill-concealed discomfort.  
“You flinch? I knew you didn’t read the folder I gave you! I swear! You and your brother both! I’ll never have grandchildren at this rate! The way Genji carries on one would think! But, no.”

Hanzo cringed even harder.

With every passing year her near panic at her both her sons bachelor status increased in pitch exponentially. He had caught her hinting heavily once in the past year to a poor cornered maid that she secretly wished that one of Genji’s flings would result in an accident. 

It made him vaguely ill if he was honest.  
He needed to get her back on track.

“So about Seiko…” he prompted.  
“Keiko. She’s a very successful actress, but she’s nearing 30 and it’s not likely she’ll be offered the kinds of roles she’s used too much longer. It’ll be a good match for both of you. She’ll be good for your reputation and she’ll have a secure future as part of our family.”  
Hanzo tried to cut her off to defend the young woman and explain to his mother why her assertions were grossly inappropriate but she spoke over him.

“Now due to negotiations with her agency the first interview won’t be until early next month.”  
Hanzo’s brain froze.  
“Next month? Early, like the third?”  
“Probably closer to the fifth, but yes.”  
“I can’t!” He said quickly, desperate to put the interview off as long as possible.  
“Genji wants to go to the UK for a book thing. I promised him.”

His mother looked suspicious.  
“Genji isn’t up to going overseas.”  
“His doctor has given express permission and it may be his last international trip for years at least. I cannot let him go alone.”

He could see her own brain struggle to process what he had just said, caught between worry over her baby “Sparrow” and her need to indulge Genji’s every whim. 

“Of course. I swear! The both of you. The boy would cut off his nose to spite his face. Well. We’ll take care of it. You must look after your brother. One day you’re going to be all he has and vice versa. Heaven knows your father and I can’t be around forever. Really I wish you would both just get married.”

It took another 10 minutes to get his mother out of his office and on her way home, all thoughts of corporate concern scattered.

It looked like he would be going with Genji to England after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse McCree has been working at Austenland for a while now and he's never met anyone quite like Mr. Shimada.
> 
> Hanzo's here and still trying to figure out what to make of it all.  
> Are cowboys even period?

Jesse McCree tied his cravat for the third time. He was just not at all used to wearing it.  
This was his first time in the big house.

McCree had been a part of Austenland for a couple of years first as stable master, then as an actor.

Austenland was an immersive regency era live action role play resort. Clients paid good money to spend two weeks clothed in pretty silks and velvets with men (or women) fawning over them, all culminating in a Cinderella ball.

At first he had thought the whole thing ridiculous, but working with the horses had been soul soothing.

When the proprietor, Ana Amari, had approached him about taking on a storyline role, he was hesitant. The rules governing behavior of both employees and guests were strict so he was protected on that front. Ana and Reinhardt Amari, who owned the place, both were old war buddies and he trusted them with his life.

His first role as the gruff, but charming, stable master who falls in love with the shy girl came easier to him than he thought. Watching his young clients open up under his gentle words and gain a measure of confidence under his wing had been surprisingly rewarding. He tried, first and foremost, to set a standard for his clients for how a man ought to treat them.

The Amari’s made a formidable team with Ana in charge of the business end and the screening of clients, and the more romantic minded Reinhardt writing storylines that occasionally strayed from “Gothic/Regency romance” into “PG13-Bodice Ripper Style” territory.

Now McCree was standing in the manner house instead of his shack behind the stables. An American cattle king instead of a farm hand.

His backstory wasn’t actually “cattle king” (that would have been out of period) but he _was_ a moneyed, American Frontiersman.  
The new role meant a new wardrobe in addition to the room, but at least he wasn’t diving straight into a romantic plotline so he had a chance to really find his new character.

His assignment was to watch over and entertain Reinhardt’s Goddaughter. In fact, out of the three guests who would be staying this month, only one of them was looking specifically for a romantic plotline.  
This wasn’t terribly uncommon. A lot of their clientele were friends or relatives of guests, there just so their friend wasn’t alone.

He straightened the cravat one last time, smoothed down his red and gold waistcoat, pulled a burgundy coat on over it and ventured down to the parlor to meet the new guests.

The maid announced his entrance as he walked in, his stride confident despite his inexperience. He had never been part of the first meeting before, having always hung back in the stables, and he didn’t expect things to be so tense.  
He bowed as elegantly as he could manage.

“Dame Ana, Sir Reinhardt. Thank you so much again for your kind invitation to stay the next few weeks.”

Ana smiled. He had a feeling she enjoyed this part of the game far more than she let on.  
“Mr. McCree. We are honored by your presence. You have met Ms. Zeigler and Ms. Vaswani.”  
“Ladies,” He acknowledged with a deep bow of his head, fighting not to tip a non-existent hat.  
“Allow me to introduce Mr. Hanzo Shimada, Mr. Genji Shimada, and my husband’s goddaughter, Ms. Lindholm.”

He crossed the room in a few long strides that he hoped looked more confident than they were and took Ms. Bridgette Lindholm's hand, kissing the air just above it.  
“It’s a right fine pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lindholm.”  
He straightened and turned bowing again to the gentlemen before taking a seat near Bridgette and taking stock of the room as the others engaged in small talk. 

He and Angela Ziegler went back, not quite as far as him and Ana but close.   
She was a surgeon, a top tier professional in her field and it kind of galled him to call her “Miss” instead of “Doctor”, but he supposed the entire point of this, which she did as a hobby, was to get away from that life.

One thing was for sure, she certainly looked like an angel in her white linen, empire waist gown with a china blue flower print and her golden hair arranged in tight ringlets.  
Something Genji Shimada certainly noticed. The younger of the brothers was dressed in a forest green waistcoat and a spring leaf, silk twill coat that would have been very nearly neon in a different setting.  
His midnight black hair was artfully messy and there were signs on the back of his neck that he had dyed it that way recently.

Ana and Reinhardt prioritized fun over historical or literary accuracy, allowing for the diverse clientele they desired which was also why McCree didn’t bother to hide his outrageous, yet undeniably charming drawl.

The younger man was hanging off of Angela's every word, while simultaneously attempting to appear roguishly unaffected. He was failing and, frankly, McCree thought it was pretty cute.

The older brother, Hanzo, on the other hand, appeared taciturn and unsociable despite chatting quietly in the corner with Satya.

Satya Vaswani rarely engaged in romantic plotlines, preferring to fill the role of antagonist.  
Often this meant setting herself up as a client’s rival for the affection of their suitor, or as Angela or Mei’s cold and domineering keeper.  
This time, sitting primly in a peacock blue silk gown and sparkling sapphire jewels she seemed to fill the same role for Hanzo that McCree was for Bridgette. 

Taciturn and unsociable as the older brother seemed, however, he was by far one of the handsomest men McCree had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

Eyes the color of bitter dark chocolate under heavy brows, features as sharp as a blade. Long black hair with distinguishing streaks of grey at the temples was pulled into a tail at the base of his neck, secured with a satin black ribbon and a no nonsense goatee to match. Mr. Shimada had a body built for Regency wear. His overcoat was royal blue and his waist coat was cream accented with gold silk and polished brass buttons.

He wore it all like an aristocratic too, back ramrod straight, and shoulders squared.

McCree was in trouble.

He was silently thankful that this particular storyline didn’t call for “Prince Charming Jack Morrison” or “Dashing Rogue Gabriel Reyes”. His instant, if skin deep, crush on the Darcy-esque Mr. Shimada would not have gone unnoticed and he would have caught no end of well meaning hell from the two other men.

They passed the afternoon pleasantly enough and shortly after the clock chimed 7 were called to the dining room.  
McCree sat next to Ms. Lindholm and across from Mr. Shimada who sat between Ms. Vaswani and his brother.  
Genji, for his part was still chatting amiably with Ms. Ziegler.

Bridgette was a fun and interesting conversationalist. He had known that she was youngest daughter of Torbjorn Lindholm, a world class engineer and Reinhardt’s closest friend (bar Ana), and was also a grounding influence in the old warhorse's life.

He didn’t expect her to relish in her story role. He laughed quietly and egged her on in her dramatic description of her “tragic past”.  
Bridgette Lindholm was an up and coming engineer herself, the oldest of _several_ siblings, living both in the shadow of her father’s work and also competing in a male dominated field.  
It translated into an incredibly dynamic backstory.  
The stories she told about her siblings and cats reminded McCree a great deal of her godfather.

Towards the end of the second course, _(God, he’d never eaten so much)_ he noticed the man across the table was staring at him with a wide eyed expression. McCree recovered quickly enough.

“I say, Mr. Shimada, have you ever heard such a charming tale?”  
“No,” he said flatly.  
Okay. He wasn’t actually sure where to take that.

Bridgette had struck up conversation with Satya while McCree was distracted and now he wracked his brain to think of something to say. Normally he was a fair hand at chit chat, but something about the stormy eyed man in front of him had McCree off kilter.  
Mr. Shimada mumbled something in Japanese. It didn’t sound flattering.

“Beggin' your pardon, sir?” McCree challenged quietly.  
“Could you lay it on any thicker?” Mr. Shimada hissed.  
“Even if your _cowboy_ wasn’t about 100 years too early, one would think that with the sheer amount of money my brother put out for this trip you could pretend to be able to act.”  
“Hanzo!” Genji's voice rang out next to him and Shimada’s head whipped around where he met his brother’s eyes, shocked.

The table had fallen silent during the exchange and neither he nor Mr. Shimada had noticed that they had become the center of attention.

At least the man had the decency to look ashamed, his face turning red in an embarrassed blush. Mumbling a quiet apology, Mr. Shimada excused himself and retired to his room.  
Thus ended McCree's crush on the great Hanzo Shimada.

888

_Dear Mrs. Amari,  
My deepest and sincerest apologies for this evening’s outburst…_

Hanzo stared dumbly down at the letter on his desk.

This was his third attempt, the first two falling victim to his inability to use a nibbed pen.  
He’d found a ball-point in the depths of his room’s desk, as though some entity had decided to take just the slightest bit of pity on him, but it didn’t aid him near at all in constructing a proper apology. 

The clock on his desk showed roughly fifteen minutes past nine.  
The knock on his door was swift and sharp and followed immediately by his brother entering the room without his permission. Genji’s normally soft, mischievous gaze was cold and angry.

“All the times I embarrassed you. All the functions I showed up to drunk, all the flings, the drugs, the rehab stints… were you saving this? Is this your revenge for all those times? Because I feel it.”  
Hanzo hung his head, but remained silent.  
“You realize that if the Amari’s kick you out, I’m forced to go too,” He said and Hanzo flinched.  
“I may have asked you to overlook a lot and you have, but you _knew_ how important this was to me and you couldn’t last the day?”  
“I’m sorry, Genji,” He whispered.  
Genji huffed and paced back and forth across the room, his hard-soled boots sounding a damning tattoo. The room was already somewhat warm, Hanzo had removed his coat, cravat, and weskit, but Genji’s barely reigned in rage turned it into a small inferno.  
Genji scowled and threw himself into an armchair in the corner near the bookcase.  
Hanzo hid a small smile. Contrite as he was, he liked Genji this way. Not necessarily mad at him, but level headed, more genuine than he was back at home. Out from under their family’s thumb where his first instinct was to rebel.  
“So why McCree?” he asked.   
Hanzo took stock of his little brother. There were still traces of anger in his face, but also what looked like a willingness to put it behind him.  
Mostly he looked tired. It seemed like Genji was always tired these days. Not surprising, given his condition. Guilt washed over Hanzo again.  
“I don’t know.” He confessed.  
“He was just so….. so smug? And really, his acting really was terrible.”  
Genji looked at him with suspicion.  
“He did perhaps seem kind of nervous. Smug about what?”  
Hanzo suddenly felt even more uncomfortable. He reached up to loosen the cravat he had already removed.  
“I do not know. Like he knew he could have anything and everything in that room. Like he was…”  
Genji barked a laugh.  
“He’s an actor, Hanzo. And a decent guy at that. Played off what happened between you two, made excuses for you and then cheered up the whole damn room. I’ve never seen anything like it.”  
Hanzo huffed.  
“He’s very handsome.” Genji said, a new light in his eyes.   
“You weren’t jealous of the way he was flirting with Ms. Lindholm, were you?”  
“No,” he said, maybe a touch too quickly.  
Genji sighed and looked at him seriously.  
“You owe him an apology, Anija.”  
“I know.” He said quietly.  
“Mr. and Ms. Amari too.”  
Hanzo smiled again.  
“I know, Genji. You are right. I am wrong. I will go to them first thing in the morning. Are you finished scolding me? When did you get so wise anyway?”

Genji threw his ankle across his knee, sat up straight and stroked his chin, devious smirk back in its proper place.   
“It is the hair.” He said  
“Black hair makes me wise. Green hair makes me fun.”  
This time Hanzo barked his laugh, diving at Genji and getting him into a loose hold to muss his ‘mystical’ hair.  
Genji squawked and laughed.  
“Anija stop! You’re screwing up my cravat!”

They stood and Genji headed for the door, looking poignantly at Hanzo as he reached for the doorknob.  
“First thing in the morning.” Hanzo assured him.  
Genji smiled brighter than Hanzo had seen in a long time.  
“G’night, Anija.”  
“Good night, Genji.”

As the door closed Hanzo reached for the paper on his desk and balled it before tossing it with its predecessors in the waste bin.  
His apology to the Amari’s would be in person.

Mr. McCree, however, was a different matter.  
Hanzo’s behavior had been beyond rude, no doubt, and he needed to apologize. He hadn’t really called the man out because he was jealous or anything, though.

Hanzo sat back at his desk and pulled out a fresh piece of stationary.  
The desk had been well supplied with paper, pens and ink of multiple colors, sketch pads, coal and chalk pastels, all sorts of antique writing and drawing tools.  
There was a beautiful leather bound dictionary and thesaurus set. The bookshelf was well stocked too with gorgeous classic titles that he was certain had been pulled just for him from the massive library he had seen on his way to the parlor this afternoon.

The whole room, in fact, seemed to have been, at least to a point, designed with him in mind.  
This place really was kind of amazing.

Hanzo wasted four more sheets of paper failing to write his apology to Mr. McCree before falling asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Shimada and Mr. McCree find unexpected common ground.

Jesse McCree allowed himself to luxuriate in the soft flannel sheets and thick comforter of his Big House bed.

Not that he normally slept on a hay bale in the stables (mostly), but being in the Main House meant a vacation from the responsibilities that usually had him up and with the horses before dawn.  
He would be climbing the walls before the week was out, but for now he was determined to sleep in.

As he dozed he allowed himself to think about yesterday’s events.  
Jesse prided himself on letting the judgements of others slide off him like water off a duck’s back, so he wasn’t really bitter, per say, about Hanzo’s outburst at dinner.  
He obviously wasn’t here to do the play acting and was only here to keep his brother company. That didn’t excuse his behavior, but it did make it easier to deal with. 

Since starting with Austenland, McCree had dealt with some seriously spoiled brats but Shimada was by far the worst. It was a shame because the man was devastatingly handsome.

Now he was extra glad that Jack and Gabe weren’t here to witness the shortest lived crush he had ever entertained.  
He supposed it should have been par for the course in this line of work. The boarder between narrative and reality could blur sometimes. 

At the same time it wasn’t always a case of confusingly commoditized romance. Jack and Gabe had circled each other for years. After the Crisis and they all left the military, Jack went his own way while Gabe had signed on at Austenland for a laugh.

About 5 years ago Ana invited Jack to come stay for a storyline as a guest.  
The well intentioned manipulations of friends aside, they managed to build a solid romance and never looked back.

When the sun had taken up a more reasonable position in the sky Jesse finally rolled out of bed.

The bathrooms were fully equipped with all the proper modern indoor plumbing so he availed himself of both the water closet and the shower before selecting an outfit.  
He’d never really put a lot of thought into his clothes before, but the brocaded silk waistcoats Ana's seamstresses designed were magnificent.

Not for the first time McCree wondered how much an actual stay here cost. Between the wardrobe, the staff, and the grounds, it all must cost a fortune to maintain. When he thought about it the entire operation was ridiculous.

He snorted.  
The Shimada's must be incredibly rich to pull off this kind of vacation.  
He smiled to himself.

Genji also seemed to be a spoiled brat, but was also genuinely good natured. He had apologized profusely for his brother's behavior last night and hinted that said brother had done the same for him on multiple occasions.   
McCree gathered that was something the elder Shimada did among his peers in wealth and consequence, but not to farm hands turned “bad” actors.

McCree shook his head. That was fine. Being bitter was pointless. He could shake it off and complete two weeks under the same roof as Mr. Shimada and _not_ punch that beautifully smug jaw.  
A final smoothing of his coat and McCree made his way down to the breakfast room.

Voices from Ana's office held his steps in the hallway.  
“-I am so deeply sorry. My behavior at dinner was unconscionable and I apologize.”  
It seemed the man in question was apologizing to what sounded like Ana.

McCree couldn’t make out her response, but whatever it was, it wasn’t brief.  
Not surprising.  
Captain Amari, sniper, who had sacrificed her right eye to the crisis had a sharp tongue and it didn’t let up till her point was inescapably clear.

“I will. Thank you again. I am most sincerely grateful.”

Well at the very least it sounded like he understood his role in the matter. McCree made to move on towards the breakfast room again when the door opened revealing both Ana and Mr. Shimada.  
Seeing McCree, Mr. Shimada’s face turned a bright red. 

“Mornin' all.” McCree said touching two fingers to his temple in imitation of a hat tip.  
“And a fine one, indeed.”

Shimada scowled and turned his head, still bright crimson.

“Well is this not convenient, Mr. Shimada?” Ana said placidly moving to offer Jesse her hand which he took and brushed his lips against her gloved knuckles.  
“I believe you two are due for a conversation. I’ll be in the breakfast room when you’re done.”  
She gave McCree a pointed look.  
“Be nice.” She said simply.  
McCree recognized it for the warning it was.

As soon as she disappeared around the corner he turned to Shimada with an open smile that was probably only a smidgen smug. Probably.  
Mr. Shimada grit his teeth, and took a deep breath.  
“Mr. McCree,” He started.  
McCree kept silent and softened his smile. It seemed to help slightly.

“I would like to offer my sincere apologies for my behavior last night. It was unpardonable and I am sorry.”  
He ground it out with the air of a man unused to humbling himself, but he seemed honest enough.  
“Think nothing of it.” McCree said, reveling in the sight of the handsome man forced to eat crow.  
“Shall we get to breakfast?” he said gesturing for Mr. Shimada to take the lead down the hall.  
“Yes, please.” Shimada replied.  
They walked in awkward silence for a second.

“So we got to talking after you, uh, retired last night and everyone expressed an interest in going trap shooting today. Would you care to join us?” McCree wasn’t entirely sure why he was asking other than to fill the silence.  
Mr. Shimada hesitated.  
“I am unfamiliar with the sport.” He said.  
“I'd be happy to show you the ropes.” McCree offered.  
Shimada opened his mouth for what seemed like was going to be a cold refusal.  
“It would mean a lot to your brother.”  
His mouth shut again.  
It wasn’t untrue. It would mean a lot to Genji.  
Which meant, McCree supposed, it would mean a lot to Angela and Ana.

Damnit all.

Shimada huffed in lieu of grumbling, but took another deep breath.  
“I would be honored if you would teach me.”

888

After the sobering talk with Ms. Amari and the humiliating confrontation in the hall Hanzo was surprised that breakfast passed without incident.

Ms. Lindholm had thoughtfully traded chairs with Mr. McCree and left him alone. He did quietly apologize to Ms. Vaswani who disclaimed any injury and they had a pleasant enough conversation.

Her character was a merchant with the East India Company, another historical liberty, but one developed by her and clearly intended to be a slap in the face to colonialism and he found it interesting and amusing instead of jarring. Despite her quiet and serious demeanor she spoke with passion about whatever subject she broached. Her keen understanding of period marine technology and the silk and spice trade made him wonder about her occupation outside of “Regency era actress”.

Genji also made a concerted effort to tear his attention away from Ms. Ziegler for more than two seconds.

They wouldn’t go shooting until after lunch so Hanzo excused himself after breakfast to explore the library.  
He confirmed that the books in his room had been pulled from the impressive collection and grabbed a couple of others that were of interest to him.

He took a seat by the window and settled in. It had been years since he was able to spend a morning in a comfortable chair reading in the sunlight. A servant brought him some tea and took his other book selections to his room.  
He was dozing lightly over a book of romantic poetry when a sound from outside the window shook him awake.  
He peered out to see Ms. Lindholm and Mr. McCree out for a walk and playing a game of fetch with a large German Shepherd.  
Somehow the red rubber ball they threw got Hanzo to laugh hysterically. All “historical” convention seemed tossed out the window and he didn’t know what to think.

When Genji had proposed the trip he hadn’t known what to think either. The website didn’t offer a lot in the way of information and he gathered that most of their clientele found out about the place through word of mouth. They also catered mostly to a clientele of a certain tax bracket.  
He finally bit the bullet and read one of Ms. Austen's works on the flight over.  
He had found Persuasion interesting enough. Genji had laughed and said he would probably prefer the Bronte sisters instead.

The dog barked and he heard the couple outside laugh.  
There was something about Mr. McCree that set him on edge, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

He could admit that McCree was handsome; swarthy skin under a beard trimmed just so to be rugged, yet clean. Whiskey eyes, and a voice like sex.  
That was an uncomfortable thought.

Hanzo had known for a very long time that he gay. Unfortunately that didn’t get on well with his life as the dutiful son.  
He had come out to his parents in high school and while they hadn’t exactly shut him down, they did make it clear that duty would come before anything else.

Basically he was free to take all the lovers he liked outside of marriage, but he _was_ still expected to marry a woman.

His mother’s idea of compromise. That was probably why, whenever she pushed a new prospective bride, “compatibility of personality” was never a consideration.

Or maybe that was just how it had been for her.

Not for the first time Hanzo wondered how many mistresses his father had. It put him off that two people who demanded absolute loyalty from their sons, their staff, and their peers, couldn’t manage to be loyal to each other.

The pair outside laughed again and Hanzo indulged in the deep ring of McCree's sultry chuckle, something he could feel deep in his chest.  
It was a shame that the man was completely insufferable.

Hanzo was used to arrogant men, but he was used to their arrogance hiding behind snide subtlety and backhanded compliments.  
Mr. McCree couldn’t even manage that.   
The way he stomped around, unapologetically loud and brash. The smarmy smile on his face while Hanzo had been trying to apologize for the incident last night.

Hanzo huffed and snapped his book shut. It was nearing lunch time anyway and then it would be time to go shooting with the man.

888

There was definitely a whole lot of something between Mr. McCree and Hanzo. Genji could feel it in his bones; something was going to break before the end of these two weeks.  
At least it was going to if Hanzo didn’t get them kicked out between this and then.

They were on day two and he wasn’t sure if the two were going to fuck or kill each other.

Maybe both.

Now that he was thinking about it, perhaps putting a shotgun in Hanzo’s hands was the definition of a poor life decision.  
Regardless, here they were.

Ms. Ziegler smiled up at him from beneath her bonnet and all thoughts of his brother’s screwed up love life flew out the window.

Angela Ziegler did this thing to Genji that no other crush had ever done before.  
She made Genji feel like a right idiot.

He had dated intelligent people before, mostly at the behest of his mother, but somehow Ms. Ziegler blew them away.  
Even the geniuses his mother had set him up with were well aware of Genji's reputation. Many didn’t approve. A few thought they could change him. Most just wanted a piece of him. Like he was the mid-life-crisis-sports car. A trophy.  
'Look at how I tamed the wild Shimada Genji.’

Ms. Ziegler didn’t talk down to him.

He was a gentleman, and she a gentlewoman. They were equals.

He gave her his most charming smile, the one that usually had ladies (and lads) on him in minutes. She rolled her eyes but genuinely laughed and he laughed in return.

With her, his bad boy smiles were a private joke. He wasn’t using them to seduce her.   
It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, God only knew he was, but there was something he couldn’t name staying his hand.

Maybe it was the fact that she was an actress.

This was a farie tale.

“Trap shooting has a long and GLORIOUS history!”  
Sir Reinhardt's voice boomed across the field. 

Oh yeah.

Shotguns.

Mr. McCree was carrying several for them while the rest of The party strolled to the outdoor range.

“Called such because it originally entailed trapping and releasing pigeons to shoot. Now we use a target throwing machine to launch clay disks, or ‘clay pigeons’ into the air.”

He could sense Mr. McCree refraining from making a crack about “historical accuracy”. He did, however, give Hanzo a mischievous look at which his brother turned away and scowled.  
The soft smile on McCree’s face, though, didn’t look mocking.  
Like it was an inside joke he was inviting Hanzo to share.

In a way, it wasn’t very different from the bad boy smile he had shared with Ms. Ziegler.

It was clear that whatever other poetic license Austenland took, they were serious about gun safety. All the shotguns, while beautiful, with gleaming wooden stocks, were thoroughly modern. They also required both eye and ear protection, and Sir Reinhardt, for all his boisterousness, laid out the range rules in a way that brooked no argument.

Ms. Vaswani had begged off the outing, citing a general distaste for guns, but with Sir Reinhardt joining them that meant they were still six. 

Sir Reinhardt and his Goddaughter seemed to know what they were doing and were checking on both the guns and the disk throwing machine.

Mr. McCree was showing Hanzo around the shotgun and despite Hanzo’s dislike for the man he was paying strict attention.

This meant he was paired with Ms. Ziegler.

“Have you ever used a shotgun before, Mr. Shimada?” She asked.

It didn’t surprise him at all that she knew what she was doing and it surprised him even less that she took him through the basic lessons in a way that was so natural it should have breached his suspension of disbelief, but it didn’t.  
Of course she was a master marksman.  
There was literally nothing she couldn’t do and he was more than okay with this.

He did better than he would have hoped, for having never shot a gun before. He had missed about one in every five targets, but he was more of a swordsman anyway.

Hanzo, the family archer and dedicated perfectionist, of course, refused to miss a single disk.

McCree never seemed to miss either and a fierce but friendly rivalry sprung up between them instantaneously.

Over the course of the afternoon it actually started to become singularly bizarre, as though they had forgotten that the others were even there.

Banter turned into challenges and challenges turned into the frivolous betting of dinner and desert foods and they sported matching wild grins.

Genji had never seen Hanzo have so much fun.

The lot of them ate a small picnic dinner (including the promised exchange of sweet winnings) before heading back to the house.

Well, before four of them headed back to the house at any rate.  
Mr. McCree and Hanzo were determined to stay until one of them missed.

When they showed up at the house, well after dark, while everyone was sitting around a card table, Genji noted a sad quality to Hanzo’s smile he had never seen before and worry started to take root in his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Shimada and Mr. McCree take the first steps in their dance.

It was amazing what a bit of friendly competition could accomplish. While the setting was still foreign, the meditative quality of ready-aim-fire was familiar enough for Hanzo to center himself after nearly two days of mental chaos.

The chance to show up the pretentious Mr. McCree was simply the proverbial cherry on top. 

His first few shots clipped the disk instead of shattering it, but he quickly learned to compensate. They stayed out shooting until twilight began to make their sport genuinely dangerous.

Something in the world around Hanzo shifted. It was a moment he felt he could get high on, everything falling into sharp focus. The smell of fading gunpowder, the rich honey tone of Mr. McCree’s soft chuckle, the feel of the breeze damp with the quiet promise of a storm rolling in.

It was, perhaps, an unwillingness to let the moment end that had Hanzo offering to help Mr. McCree collect their supplies and carry it all back to the equipment shed.

“If I may, Mr. McCree,” He tried breaching the comfortable silence, “How do you know the Amari’s?’

Mr. McCree put on a charmingly false smile.   
And Hanzo’s moment ended.

“I do business with Dame Ana. She’s an investor and a valued friend.”

Hanzo hummed his response around an odd lump in his throat and declined any further attempt at conversation.

As they entered the house Hanzo had managed to clear his voice enough to declare himself exhausted and turn in early.  
He changed into the one bit of modern clothing the resort rules allowed for, his sleeping pants, and doused the lanterns before crawling into the soft flannel sheets.

He was pretending to sleep when he heard the single quiet knock on his door. Genji entered without permission, placing a soft kiss on his brother’s head before whispering goodnight and retiring to his own room.

888

A peel of thunder and the sound of rain on the library window woke Hanzo from his doze in a surprisingly comfortable wingback chair.  
He had been avoiding the entire household all day. A feat considering that the rain that had woken him had been pouring all day so everyone was stuck inside.  
Last he had seen, most of the party were playing at billiards.

Hanzo had nodded off over a copy of Pride and Prejudice which he had, again, been attempting to understand the appeal of. He had actually gotten fairly far into it this time.  
However, he still found the “hero” completely unlikable. He could see why Genji would love the main character, though. She was cuttingly witty and Austen herself seemed to just “get” people, but it wasn’t enough to carry the story for him.  
Hanzo could feel his frustration reaching a boiling point.

There was a knock on the doorframe across from him and a servant reminded him that Genji had signed them up to learn period dancing to prepare for the ball at the end of their stay.

He scowled. This place, like the book, just wasn’t suiting him.  
It all felt so forced, and yet Genji was having the time of his life.

Not for the first time, Hanzo wondered what was wrong with him? What was Genji doing right that he just _wasn’t_?

Hanzo was the last to arrive.  
The ballroom was actually rather enormous and he wondered how they were going to get enough guests to fill it come the end of next week.

Based on what he had experienced so far, Hanzo half expected to see a speaker or boom box providing music for the lesson so it surprised him when Sir Reinhardt sat down at a piano forte that had been placed in the room and his gigantic hands flew gracefully across the keys.

Mr. McCree took Dame Ana's hand as she called out the lesson and the two moved together with practiced ease.

Ms. Vaswani cleared her throat, drawing Hanzo from his thoughts as he took her hand and tried to focus on the lesson.  
She walked him through the steps until he felt comfortable with the movements.

“You seem distracted.” She said  
“I fear I have not settled in here, quite as well as my brother would wish.”  
She cocked her head and seemed to take stock of him.  
“It has only been three days.”  
He considers this for a second.  
“True. However, Genji seems to have had no issue acclimating and I…”

He paused, carefully considering his next words, but she finished for him anyway.

“You are upset that you have not become proficient in the game with the speed he has.”

It was not a question. She sighed as she curtsied towards him and he bowed in return.  
“Sense and Sensibility.” She declared at last.

The look on his face must have told her that he didn’t follow and she heaved another beleaguered sigh.

“During the time when it was written there were two prevailing philosophy’s of life. Sense: that the primary director of one’s life should be the unimpeachable intellect; reason, logic, facts, math, history, science, etc. And Sensibility which emphasized romanticism, poetry, art, love, and beauty. Elinor Dashwood embodied the former, her sister, Marianne Dashwood, the latter.  
It wasn’t until they learned to balance the two within themselves that they could achieve their heart’s true desire, which, during such a period was of course, a husband.”

The matter of fact tone with which she presented her analysis threw Hanzo for a loop and he shook his head.   
“It is, of course, more complicated than that, one may argue that had Elinore been more inclined towards the impulsiveness of Sensibility she would never have achieved her end from the start. However, each was, by embracing only one side of their personality, out of balance; mentally sabotaging themselves and ultimately making themselves miserable. This place allows one to embrace a side of themselves they feel that they cannot in their mundane life.  
Take Ms. Zeigler for example. Did you know she is a surgeon? One of the world’s leading experts on cybernetics.”

Hanzo looked over at the blonde beauty, prancing around the room with his brother, lighthearted and smiling at him with fondness.

“As you can imagine,” Ms. Vaswani continued “she is not often allowed to be silly, frivolous, coy, or romantic. To embrace, in a word, Sensibility. All of these things exist within her, but if she allows herself to not be taken seriously by her colleagues, the majority of the people in her life, it would have a certain impact on her career.  
This place serves a similar function for me. I, however, am not entirely comfortable with my ‘sensibility’, and here, I may indulge it in a controlled environment.”

Hanzo hummed in dismay, a little suspicious of Ms. Vaswani’s analysis.  
Hanzo was Hanzo. There was no point in pretending to be something he wasn’t, either here or at home.  
 _but you have been…_ a traitorous voice in the back of his head whispered.

No.  
Hanzo was all “Sense”…  
Obviously…

This would require some meditation.

Thankfully it had stopped raining over the course of the lesson and he ducked out of the house and along a wooded trail, determined to wrangle his tempestuous mind into some kind of order.

888

McCree couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

Mr. Shimada had been fine one minute, shooting till dusk alongside McCree, walking back to the equipment shed in the twilight, smiling like…  
McCree shook off that line of thinking.  
The next, he was back to giving out the cold shoulder.

He thought…  
He had hoped Shimada was finally getting into the game.  
Well he’d been wrong before.

“Jesse, dear, what’s wrong?” Ana’s voice dredged McCree out of his head.  
Right.  
Dancing.

He smiled, trying to stave off Ana’s worry.  
“I’m fine.”

She frowned.  
“Jesse McCree, you’ve stepped on my dress three times. Do it again and I’ll use you for target practice. Now what’s wrong, dear?”

Jesse chuckled, well aware that the maternal concern, while genuine, was closer to the character of Dame Ana than Captain Amari, hero of the Crisis and world famous sniper.

McCree blew out a sigh.

“Ah. It’s Mr. Shimada. He seem off to you?  
Ana tilted her head with concern.  
“A touch.” Ana admitted.  
“He just… Ana, you should’ve seen him yesterday, out having fun, all smiling, and we got back and he just shut down. I’m kinda worried.”  
Ana nodded.  
“Can you pinpoint when he changed?”  
McCree thought back.  
“Seemed like he was finally getting his head outta his ass. Loosening up. Asked me for my backstory, I gave it and then suddenly he has a headache and turns in early.”  
Ana nodded again.  
“Did he ask for your backstory or Mr. McCree’s?”

Oh.

“Shit.”  
“Seems to me he forgot it was all part of the game. This sort of fantasy may not appeal to a man like him, but I’ll bet chances to cut loose without expectations are few and far between in his life. Perhaps more than a fantasy, Mr. Shimada could use a genuine friend. Can you do that?”

Be friends?

With the devastatingly gorgeous, wildly moody Mr. Shimada?

… okay.

“Sure.” He said. “Why not?”

888

As soon as the lesson ended Mr. Shimada disappeared, which was beginning to become characteristic.

McCree wandered around the house looking for him. There was no rush. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say anyway. Besides, if the man wasn’t ready to rejoin society there was no reason to force the issue.

He tried all of Shimada’s usual haunts.

_Usual. You’ve known the man for three days._

The library, the gallery, even his own room all proved fruitless.  
Maybe outside?

He flagged down the Butler who confirmed that he had seen Mr. Shimada go outside and start down one of the paths.  
McCree thanked him and headed for the stable. The trail Mr. Shimada had chosen was intended for both hiking and horseback riding and he would have had to pass by the stable anyway. McCree figured so long as he was meandering, he might as well saddle Silver and give her some exercise.

Plus he cut a fine figure on horseback.

The air was cool and humid as McCree lead the mare out to the trailhead. The sky was mostly clear but McCree could feel a second storm cell on the horizon.  
It was time to stop screwing around and find Mr. Shimada.

888

Hanzo let himself get lost in his head as his feet moved along the wooded path. Water still dropped from the leaves of the trees and the late afternoon sun was making it oppressively humid. It would be getting late soon and once the sun started to set it would do so quickly. He _should_ turn back soon, but he hadn’t made much headway in his reflections and he was loath to face the household again until he had.

Hanzo had never given much thought to the differences between Genji and himself.

He was the responsible heir.  
Genji was the spoiled, if good natured, baby.  
He really hadn’t thought of them outside the context of their family. What kind of man was Genji, really? What kind of man was Hanzo?

_Black hair makes me wise. Green hair makes me fun._

Hanzo was struck again by the difference between Genji here (black haired Genji) and Genji at home, back in Japan (green haired Genji).   
If they hadn’t been Shimada heirs, who would they be? Hanzo thought again about his life. When was the last time he had truly done anything meaningful for himself?

The image of Mr. McCree, gun smoke wreathing his head, cocky grin on his lips, struck him.  
When was the last time he had been on a date with someone his mother hadn’t picked for him?

Thunder rolled above him and he looked up. He hadn’t noticed the clouds roll in in the fading light.  
He had no sooner turned around to head back than the sky opened up and within seconds Hanzo was soaked through.

This would not be pleasant.  
Soon he would be freezing.

A sound made itself known over the howling of the storm front: hoof beats.

Hanzo peered along the trail, shielding his eyes from the rain as best he could when, like something out of one of those damnable books, a rider, a hero, appeared around the bend.  
He approached Hanzo and swung down gracefully from the saddle.

Hanzo’s heart began to race as none other than Mr. McCree pushed his wet hair out of his face and smiled.  
Brightly and genuinely smiled. 

“Need a lift?”  
Hanzo could do nothing but nod dumbly; sure he looked for all the world like a drowned rat.  
“Ever ridden a horse before?”  
Now he could only shake his head.

McCree offered him a hand and Hanzo was certain he would fly into a thousand pieces as he took it.  
He barely comprehended as McCree handed him up into the saddle, urged him over the pommel and then climbed up behind him.

Aaaaaand he was really high up off the ground and not even properly in the saddle. Hanzo was normally uncannily comfortable with heights, but something about trusting this animal not to throw him disrupted some primal part of his brain.  
He scrabbled and clutched at McCree’s arm as he took up the reins pressing his back hard into McCree's chest.

“Do you have me?” he asked, too cold and too scared to think much about the quiver in his voice.  
McCree’s rich laughter washed over his neck.

“I got’cha fine, darlin'.” He said and oh the things that voice did to his insides.  
“Now, anyone who can shoot a gun like that can ride a horse. Ready?”  
Hanzo was going to fly apart again.

They took off at a gallop and Hanzo thought he might actually be beginning to understand what Ms. Vaswani meant by “Sensibility”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Shimada and Mr. McCree have a quiet moment.

Hanzo was still quaking from the cold, _and only from the cold_ when Mr. McCree trotted the horse into the barn. By the time they had returned it was completely dark and the storm was in full swing.

Hanzo stifled a groan of complaint when Mr. McCree’s warm bulk pulled away from his back and he offered his hand to help Hanzo down.

He handed Hanzo a clean saddle blanket and began stripping off his frock coat and now likely ruined waist coat before leading the horse he had so gallantly ridden to Hanzo's rescue, to an empty stall.

He nodded at a side door Hanzo had missed as he looked around the stable.

“Right through there and up the stairs, second door. There’s a shower. Just leave everything on the floor. I’ll take care of it after I get this little lady squared away.”

He immediately turned to begin removing tack and Hanzo felt thoroughly dismissed.

Had being caught out in the rain upset McCree?

Could it have harmed the horse?

Hanzo turned and passed through the door, flipping on a light as he passed.

It looked like somebody’s cabin was attached to the stable.   
It was small but cozy.  
It certainly didn’t look anything like what was up at the manor house. There was a warm looking worn in couch on one side with, of all things, a tv. Blankets were strewn about and a cow skin rug was on the floor under the coffee table.  
On the other side was a galley kitchen and a small but sturdy oak table in the ‘dining area’. 

He removed his boots in what appeared to be the rough equivalent of a genkan and moved into the house proper.

“Up the stairs. Second door.” Mr. McCree had said. The room in question was small like the rest of the cabin but bigger than Hanzo expected sporting a double sink vanity, garden tub, water closet, and shower cabin.

The tub looked tempting but ultimately seemed like poor manners. If McCree was upset with him he would be even more so if Hanzo took more than was offered.

He stripped and folded his sodden cloths, placing them on the floor as instructed.

Hanzo turned on the shower and the water quickly steamed. He stepped under the spray and indulged for a second as the hot water soothed muscles he hadn’t realized were sore, warmed appendages he hadn’t realized were numb, and rinsed away grime he hadn’t realized he had accumulated.

Now that he _had_ noticed it, however, he suddenly squirmed in discomfort until he was working up a lather of the available soap and was blind sided by the scent of the man who had held him as they tumbled on horseback through the storm.

This was McCree’s shower.

This was McCree’s cabin.

He finished washing, bathed a second time for good measure, shut off the water and tentatively stuck his head out the shower door.

Gone were his wet cloths and the horse blanket, replaced with a towel, clean clothes, and an odd, red shawl type thing sitting on the sink counter. 

Mr. McCree’s pants were slightly wider in the waist and taller than Hanzo’s. This was easily remedied by the slightly baggy yoked shirt, a bit snug across his shoulders, and a pair of suspenders.

After cleaning up any water that had dripped onto the floor, he folded the towel loosely and placed it in the spot where he had left his clothes.

Hanzo quietly descended the stairs, spying Mr. McCree in the kitchen. He purposefully made noise on the last few steps so as not to startle the man.

“Have fun?” McCree said, bright smile back in place, though now Hanzo couldn’t identify it as real or fake.  
“You were in there a while.”  
“Oh. Sorry.”

Oh shit. He really was upset wasn’t he.

“It’s not a problem,” McCree assured him, “only meant I had time to wash up a bit, call Ana, and grab some stew out of the freezer.”

Hanzo had to rise up onto his tip toes to see into the pot and not stray too close to McCree.  
There were two large bricks of frozen stew just beginning to melt in there. He glanced back up at Mr. McCree who wore an odd expression.

“So…” McCree continued, “I managed to clean up a bit, but I’m desperate for an actual shower if you haven’t used all my hot water.”

He was grinning but Hanzo was still unsure about what he was seeing and the smile faltered.  
He turned away and cleared his throat.

“So if you wouldn’t mind just… keepin' an eye on the stove here I’ll just… yeah.”

He shuffled awkwardly around Hanzo and headed for the stairs but suddenly stopped and turned back.  
“This is my place so make yourself comfortable. Don’t worry too much, just… I… yeah.”

Hanzo stared after McCree as he disappeared up the stairs.  
“Thank you.”

He numbly picked up the spoon sitting in a cradle next to the pot and poked at the blocks of frozen broth.

Even over medium-high heat they weren’t going to melt in a hurry. He replaced the spoon and wandered around the small space. There was a bookcase next to the TV and he let his eyes slide over it. Aside from the complete works of Jane Austen,-

_predictable_

was a mix of Scifi, Fantasy, Hard Boiled Detective Mysteries, some genre fiction, and a whole shelf and then some dedicated to Louis L’Amore Westerns.

There was also a beat up, much beloved photo in a dollar store frame.

McCree was there along with the Amari's, Ms. Ziegler, and a few others, all in military fatigues.

It felt private.  
He really should be watching the pot anyway.

As he rounded the couch to return to the kitchen he half tripped over a printer on the floor, knocking over the papers stacked on top. He shuffled them back together hoping against hope that they managed to stay in some semblance of order.

Something about the words drew his eye. It had no cover sheet but it was obviously some sort of manuscript.

Hanzo’s eyes poured over the page.

He could almost but not quite hear the words in McCree’s voice.  
It occupied that sweet spot, recognizably _him_ but not distractingly so.

It seemed to be part Western, part High Fantasy, a genre combination Hanzo had never considered, though now that he thought about it, the two genres had a lot in common.  
Lawlessness, justice, honor, man versus man versus nature.

Done well it could be very compelling.  
Done well…  
Hanzo desperately wanted a pen. 

888

McCree continued to towel his hair as he descended the stairs.  
When he reached the bottom he was surprised to find Hanzo in his living room rather than the kitchen, and rifling through the papers that had been on top of his printer.

He smiled to himself at the sight.

He had meant to send them to Reinhardt but had been nervous; both fiercely happy with his work and eager to share, but also absolutely convinced that the prose was stale, the plot contrived and the dialogue stilted all while his own fragile pride blinded him to it.

He both craved and feared seeing someone reacting to it.

And, boy howdy, was Shimada reacting to it.

He was engrossed and it was written across his face.  
McCree took a second to appreciate that face. That midnight black hair that brushed against high, aristocratic cheek bones and fell in an inky black waterfall ending just past his collarbone. Slender fingers moved to tuck a stray lock of it behind his ear.

Okay, it was time to get moving again before he strayed too far into dangerous thoughts.

“How’s the stew doing?”

Shimada's head bolted upright. He stared at Jesse for a long second before standing stiffly and robotically shuffling to the kitchen to glance into the stew pot.

“Melted. Not yet bubbling.”

Jesse bit his lip in an attempt to suppress his grin.

“Right on time.” He said with mock seriousness.  
“Why don’t you sit on down, I’ll get the bowls. You want a beer?”

Shimada sat down as awkwardly as he had stood.  
“Just water, if that is amenable.”

Jesse shrugged. Adding beer to his mental state was probably a bad idea anyway.  
He grabbed a pair of blue pottery bowls and tall glasses out of the cabinet and served the ready stew.  
They ate in silence for a moment.

“The stew is good.” Shimada said quietly.  
“Thank you.”

A moment later and the quiet was beginning to become oppressive. McCree was wracking his brain trying to think of something to say when Shimada took a deep breath and all of Jesse's thoughts stilled.

“I... Thank you… For everything this evening. I am sorry I have put you to so much trouble.”  
Jesse smiled softly.  
“Ain’t no thing Mr. Shimada. Just glad I found you when I did. Trails can get mighty dangerous, especially in the dark and wet. Sides, you catchin' a cold woulda' made the whole trip hard on your brother, right?”

Mr. Shimada regarded him intensely for a second.  
“Hanzo,” He said.  
“We are not pretending. We may as well use our real names. Speaking of which, I do not actually know yours.”   
“Name _is_ McCree. Jesse McCree. Pleasure to meet you Hanzo.”  
“Likewise,” Hanzo replied with a slight bow of his head.

He hesitated again before speaking.  
“If I may ask, how is your horse? I did not mean to bring him out into the rain.”

Jesse smiled again.  
 _City boys._

“Silver’s a mare and she’s perfectly fine. Warm and snug, thank you for askin'. Sorry if it seemed like I gave you the cold shoulder there earlier, just needed to make sure she was tucked up nice and warm ‘fore I could do anything else.”

Hanzo immediately relaxed as though that were something he had been holding onto since they had come inside.

“So you do not live at the manner? I do not mean to pry.”  
“No, no,” McCree assured him.  
“All a part a' makin' friends, right? Gettin' to know one another?  
No. I generally live here and not up at the Big House. Usually I just tend the horses. Occasionally I do storylines, but, yeah, this is the first time I’ve played at anything more than the stable boy.”

Both men flushed slightly remembering the incident from the first night.   
They pushed their stew around their bowls for a moment longer before Hanzo tried again.

“How did you even get I to something like this?”  
“Ah.” Jesse said fondly.  
“Worked with Ana and Reinhardt during the Crisis. Rather, the unit I was in worked heavily with theirs.  
My CO was close to Ana and I was too, in my own way.  
Afterwards, when Ana and Reinhardt started this place they invited me and Gabe on board… it’s complicated.  
Anyway. From there I just kinda fell into it.”

Hanzo nodded, apparently satisfied.

“So,” McCree asked as he shoveled the last bite of stew into his mouth, “Seems we’re stuck here for the night. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Hanzo looked longingly back at the couch and McCree smirked.

“Or we can both sit and read. My work could use a look through anyway.”

Hanzo flushed again.

“I would not wish to presume…”  
“Presume away. I’ll even give you a red pen.”

Hanzo positively lit up and McCree was reminded of the trap shooting adventure from the other day.

“That would be… I would like that… I would like that a lot.”  
He hesitated.  
“And you do not mind me writing things in the margins?”  
“Not at all. Have fun. Feedback is a good thing.”  
Hanzo hummed.  
“Genji and I tend to annotate all of our books.”  
He smiled fondly.  
“Sometimes we would even trade our copies of the same book, just to read what the other had to say. But we have not done that in a while.”  
“Seems like you’re both aspiring editors.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say and Hanzo’s smile fell.  
“I will get the dishes,” He said quietly, “As thanks for the meal. And the rescue.”

McCree stood alongside Hanzo.  
“Think nothin' of it, partner. I won’t say no to you wash'n the dishes if you feel you need to, but I am going to insist you take the bed tonight. I’ll be nice and cozy on the couch.”

The dishes were cleaned in a comfortable silence as Hanzo reoriented his head. For all McCree claimed he didn’t mind Hanzo doing the dishes, they ended up splitting the work fairly evenly.  
When they were finished, McCree grabbed Hanzo the promised pen and they sat together on opposite ends of the couch.

The rain finally let up around 10:00 and Hanzo began to nod off over the manuscript. McCree chuckled softly as he took it and the pen from Hanzo’s grasp and led him upstairs, tucking him into the warm blankets.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Shimada and Mr. McCree return to the house.  
> Hanzo and Genji talk Darcy.

Hanzo allowed himself to awaken slowly. For the first time since coming here he actually felt like he was on vacation. He turned and snuggled deeper into the blankets thinking about the previous day.  
Getting caught out in the rain.  
The beat of his heart as Jesse- _Jesse_ \- rode up.  
The quiet laugh in his ear.  
The sense that they were the only two people in existence as the world rushed past them.  
It was all like something out of a fairy tale; a romance. Something he had never considered, but now realized he craved with all his being.  
An idea was beginning to form in the back of his mind and he let it simmer as he looked around McCree’s room. At least, he noted, he now knew why the bathroom could afford to be so luxurious despite the overall size of the cabin. The bedroom had a queen size bed, night stand, dresser, and nothing else.  
He suspected that McCree didn’t end up spending a lot of time here.

A small half moon window above the bed let in the sunlight, but the angle was odd and it was still fairly dark in the room.

He had only had the wherewithal last night to pull off his suspenders as he fell into bed and he pulled them back on before heading downstairs. A shower and change of clothes were, of course, in order but those could wait until he got back up to what Jesse had called “The Big House”.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs the delicious smell of breakfast hit him hard.  
Jesse turned and smiled at him.

“Mornin' sleepin beauty.”  
Hanzo blushed, knowing Jesse had meant nothing by it but flattered all the same.

“Do I smell waffles?” he asked.

Jesse scratched at the back of his neck.  
“They're just frozen ones. I was expecting to be gone for two weeks so I didn't really have the stuff to make a proper breakfast but I managed to snag some fresh fruit and geek yoghurt from the kitchens while you were still dead to the world.  
Figured we were gonna miss the normal affair up at the house and didn't want you to get stuck not eating.”

Perfectly reasonable.  
Not any reason to blush this much.

They made small talk while setting the table and fell into a comfortable silence as Hanzo gathered the courage to ask his question.

So,” he began awkwardly, “What is Mr.McCree's back story?”

McCree considered him for a second before barking a laugh and shaking his head slightly.

“Mr.McCree's back story, not mine?”  
The sudden shift alarmed Hanzo slightly.  
“Yes?” he offered.  
McCree continued to chuckle while pulling himself together.

“No. Sorry. Long story. Not the back story, just... never mind.  
So, story goes Mr. James McCree's family started out with the Hudson company, trading furs, etc, in the western colonies.  
In the last few years McCree's struck out on his own with his business partners, Dame Ana Amari, and Sir Reinhardt Amari, carting luxury goods across the pond.”

Hanzo nodded absently, staring at the tables seemingly lost in thought before coming to a decision.

“Do you think Mr.McCree would be open to entering into negotiations with a potential new partner from the East?”

McCree gaped at him, dumbstruck.  
Was Hanzo-?  
Hanzo!  
Was Hanzo proposing a storyline?

“I... sure!... I mean we would have to talk to Ana and Reinhardt about it all. What did you have in mind?”  
Hanzo hummed.  
“I am not entirely sure. I would also need to work things out with Genji. If our characters are to continue as brothers we should be developing this kind of back story together. I am not even sure, right now, what his back story even is, let alone what he may have concocted for me in my absence.”

As they finished cleaning the dishes a thought occurred to Hanzo.  
“I believe that you mentioned that you usually play the stable boy. Where did you learn to work with horses?”

Jesse finished drying his hands and then rubbed at the back of his neck again.  
“Eh... Grew up around 'em.”

Hanzo nodded, replacing the dish towel on the counter and moving to retrieve his boots.  
Jesse called out to him from the kitchen.  
“Oh, and why don't you grab the manuscript. You can give it back whenever you're finished.”

They left the cabin together and had started up the path back to the house. Hanzo was just considering pressing for details and started slightly when Jesse suddenly started speaking again.

“My parents worked for a big name ranch as hands. I pulled one too many stupid stunts as a teenager and in a really roundabout way, that's how I met Gabe. Gabe kinda stood in for my Dad after a while. When the Crisis started I managed to weasel my way into his unit. Heh. By that point I was used to takin his orders anyway.”

Hanzo looked away. He'd had cousins that fought in the Crisis, but neither he nor Genji had even considered joining the military, even if his family would have allowed for it.

“But I've digressed. Anyway.  
Yeah. Horses. I've got some experience with them.”  
“I do not.”  
McCree nudged him with his shoulder.  
“I could teach you a thing or two. Tomorrow maybe?  
I know you’re probably keen to get back to your brother today.”  
“That would be nice.”  
“'That would be nice, Mr.McCree,'” he corrected. “We should probably get back into character.”

Hanzo smiled, a little disappointed as Jesse held the door open for him.  
As he passed to enter, however, Hanzo felt Jesse's whispered, “Can't wait to meet you again, Mr. Shimada.”

A shiver ran down Hanzo's spine with new determination to take control of his story.  
He turned as Jesse shut the door and drew breath to say something- _anything_ \- when the others entered the foyer to greet them.  
Genji rushed up, enveloping Hanzo in a tight hug.

“Brother!”  
Hanzo returned the embrace with what little mental capacity he had left, but his eyes were on McCree as Ana approached him, taking his face in her hands to get a good look at him.

When Genji finally released him, Ana walked up and gave Hanzo the same treatment.

He blushed at the maternal display, despite knowing that it probably had more to do with him being a paying client than any actual concern for his health.  
He appreciated the gesture, though.

Ms. Vaswani also approached and looked him over for a second before clearly determining that he was fine and retreating to stand near Ms. Ziegler and Ms. Lindholm.

Sir Reinhardt also pulled both men into an awkward embrace and declared loudly that they would have to recount the tale of their adventure out in the rain as soon as they were settled in.

“Reinhardt, dear,” Ana interrupted, “I am sure these boys need to rest and clean up. Come now, let them go.”  
Reinhardt laughed and apologized, taking his wife's arm and allowing her to lead him back into the drawing room.

The ladies each went their own way, but after sharing a look with Me. Ziegler, Genji stayed behind.

“Well,” McCree said at last, “Guess you two have some catching up to do. I'mma head upstairs and freshen up.” He gave a sketchy bow before taking off up the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, Genji could no longer hold back his grin.  
“Anija, I am supposed to be the trouble maker, you are supposed to be the mature one and yet it seems I cannot take you anywhere.”

Hanzo flushed and made a face at his brother before breaking into a grin of his own.  
“”Perhaps, much like you with your hair, it is something about this place that makes me wild.”

Genji simply shifted his grin into a leer.  
“Something? Or someone?”  
Hanzo stammered and blushed while Genji cackled.  
“Enough!” he declared, “I have something to talk to you about anyway.”  
Genji gestured for him to lead the way and they climbed the stairs.

When they arrived in Hanzo's room, he immediately hopped into the shower while Genji selected a silk waistcoat for him from the armour.  
When he emerged, Genji was sitting on his bed flipping through McCree's manuscript.

“Put it down,” he growled.  
Genji grinned again.  
“You have written an inordinate about of praise in these margins, Anija.”  
“He invited me to read it, not you. Put it down.”  
Genji sighed heavily, but didn't argue and his eyes lost none of their mischief.”

He did calm a fraction as Hanzo vigorously toweled his hair.  
“It is good to see you smile, Hanzo.”  
Hanzo peaked out from under the towel, caught off guard by his brother's sudden sincerity.

“I do not normally not smile.” he countered cautiously.  
“Not like this,” Genji said.  
“hmn.”  
Hanzo really didn't want to feel so exposed to his little brother's scrutiny right now.  
Genji apparently picked up on his discomfort because he quickly changed the subject.

“So,” he prompted, “you had something to say?”  
“Yes, I.... I was curious about our character’s back story.”  
Hanzo could see the fire in Genji's eyes flicker again and that impish spark flared back to life.

“You don't have one.”  
Hanzo raised an eyebrow.  
“You don't! You said you weren't interested in Dinner-theater-mystery-stuff so I just wrote that I had a big, broody brother.”  
Hanzo frowned.  
“I do not brood.”  
Genji raised an eyebrow of his own.  
“Hanzo, if you were any more broody, you could star in a Bronte novel.”  
Hanzo opened his mouth to protest, but immediately shut it and Genji mentally pat himself on the back for not giving into the impulse to cackle again.

He was rewarded for it by the sight of ideas taking shape in his older brother's mind.  
Hanzo's face, however, shifted into something more guarded.  
“I do not wish to be Mr. Darcy.”  
Genji smirked.  
“Why not?”  
Hanzo sat picking at the threds of his towel.  
“I do not like him. I do not see how he could change in a way that would make the way he treated Elizabeth okay.”

Genji stared in shock.  
Hanzo huffed.

“I am not a fool. I know you have made remarks comparing me to him in the past and I know that is why you want me to read the book. I do not like being associated with a character who manipulates his friends and still expects to win the woman he supposedly loves with nothing more than his title. I do not even think he understands Elizabeth and cannot truly love her if he thinks she is the kind of person who would fall all over him simply because he is the heir to a powerful clan…… family!”

Genji swallowed hard. This was not going in any sort of direction that he could cope with.  
The slip was damning.

_Black hair makes me wise._ he reminded himself.  
“Hanzo, how far into the book are you?”  
Hanzo glowered at the wall.  
“He just gave her the letter that explains that he drove Jane and Mr. Bingly apart. Why would you compare me to someone like that?”

 

888

Jesse had left the brothers at the bottom of the stairs, anxious to get to his room.  
He needed to think and also wanted another shower.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he stopped to take a breath.

His room looked exactly as it had when he left it the day before, and yet how much had changed.

Jesse shrugged off the suspenders, (he hadn't had a vest or coat at the cabin beyond his winter stuff) and pulled the shirt over his head.  
He kicked off the pants and tossed the lot of it into a pile in the corner.  
He would tip the maid generously if she would be willing to deal with it.

He started the shower and waited for the water to heat, trying to comb through his thoughts.

The image of Hanzo trudging along the path, wet and miserable and the light in his face when Jesse rode up.  
He couldn't get the image out of his head.

Of course its only competition was Hanzo with that damned hair falling into his face as he nodded off over McCree's pathetic _attempt_ at a novel.

On the other hand, the manuscript couldn't have been that bad if it distracted Hanzo enough to keep him from noticing the way McCree was starring at him.

At the time he told himself he was just looking for a reaction, but the voice in the back of his head pointing out the perfect slant of Hanzo's nose and the darkness of his eyes would not be quelled. It took a pathetically long time for McCree to notice that the book he was making a play at reading was comically upside down.

Like something out of bad fan fiction.

McCree mentally berated himself as he stepped into the water.  
It had been all well and good when he thought Hanzo kind of pretty at their first meeting.  
He'd honestly been kind of relieved when he discovered that the man could be kind of a dick.  
If he could put some emotional distance between himself and the man he could remain professional.

That was before.

Before the range and the veneer of aristocracy falling away. Before he had found a more relaxed and playful Hanzo.

Before the storm.

Before Hanzo had looked at him like he was his saving grace.  
A knight on a steed.

A hero.

Jesse finished and shut the water off, grabbing a towel and drying himself, not stopping to look in the mirror.  
Introspection was difficult enough without having to watch his emotions play across his face like a movie.

McCree had hoped that the incident the first night would have stamped out any spark he had felt as regards the cold and distant stranger, but closer acquaintance had reignited those feelings and now they burned hotly.

McCree donned fresh clothes.  
He wasn't a fool.  
He knew his feelings were only going to grow from here.

It was a two week stay and they were barely 4 days in, how was he going to survive another week and a half with Hanzo Shimada?

How was he going to survive once Hanzo Shimada was gone?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Genji Shimada and Ms. Ziegler have a picnic.

> Ah! The hour is night  
> The sun has left the lea,  
> The orange-flower perfumes the bower  
> The breeze is on the sea.
> 
> The lark, his lay who trilled all day,  
> sits hush's his partner nigh;  
> Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,  
> But where is County Guy?
> 
> The village maid steals though the shade  
> Her shepherds's suit to hear;  
> To Beauty shy, but latice high,  
> Sings high-born Cavalier.
> 
> The star of Love, all stars above,  
> Now reighns o'er earth and sky,  
> And high and low the influence know-  
> But where is County Guy? 

Ms. Ziegler smiled and politely applauded as Genji finished his reading.

Her soft blush made the awkwardness of poetry reading completely worth it.

“Tell me, Mr. Shimada, did you pick Sir Walter Scott because he is mentioned in Sense and Sensibility or did you pick him at random?”

“It seemed relevant,” he confessed.  
She giggled.  
“Do you read poetry to all the girls, Genji?”  
“Never Walter Scott.” he assured her, bad boy smirk marred somewhat by the fierce flush across his own face.  
He took a sip of tea to hide it.

They sat at the top of a small hill with a picnic blanket and basket. Down the hill and across a field he could just barely make out Mr. McCree giving Hanzo his first horseback riding lesson.

Worry rippled though Genji for his brother's sake.

_Why would you compare me to someone like that?_

Genji didn't have a good answer. Not without ruining the book for Hanzo, anyway.

Darcy was a good man with bad social skills. So was Hanzo.  
Then there was the matter of Mr. McCree.

Genji had teased Hanzo for his new crush and the complete about face his attitude towards the man had taken since their first evening here, but if he was learning anything, Genji was learning all about his brother.

It hadn't been anything he was expecting.

Hanzo had always been so stoic, so strong. A shield between him and the expectations of their family.

To see; to be trusted with this side of him awoke something fiercely protective in Genji.

They had spoken through most of the afternoon and then again after dinner and well into the night, something they hadn't done since they were teenagers.

Hanzo was falling hard for McCree and Genji wasn't sure how to feel about it, much less what to do. McCree was open and friendly with him, sure. Not “romantically”, but not far removed from it either.

Of course, McCree was also an actor. This was all a fiction. It was entirely possible he was just making a client happy.

On the other hand, McCree hadn't been assigned to Hanzo. Was it possible that those friendly overtures could be real?  
Genji couldn't think about it.

And anyway he had his own situation to consider.

When he had first contacted Ana and had begun making arrangements for a storyline he thought he knew what he was getting into: two weeks to indulge in a fantasy, away from the pressure of his family.  
He loved his family and, to an extent, he loved the life he lived in Japan, but it was a life of both idleness and excitement; one party to the next, one conquest to the next.

At least that was how it had been for a while.  
He was so tired.  
The quiet would be nice.  
He hadn't expected how nice it would be.

Genji lay back on the blanket fingering at the pages of the poetry book. Ms. Zeigler took the book from his hand, replacing it with a tiny cake.

He smiled and murmured a “Thank you.” His heart fluttered as he watched her flip through the book. He hadn't been expecting _her_ either.

Genji was an experienced playboy.  
The mix of his own charisma with the influence of his family name was a cocktail few could resist and he stirred that mix as often as he could.

Austenland had seemed like a chance to make a play at a serous relationship without the trouble of things like “commitment” and “responsibility”. A two week romance culminating in a storybook proposal at a ball and suddenly life goes back to normal.

He wasn't trying to “seduce” Ms. Zeigler, he had always fully intended to abide by Austenland's “don't touch” rules. Besides, that would have been too easy.

_Well maybe not “easy”. Not with her anyway._

Ms. Zeigler played her role well.  
She had drawn him in, using their shared love of poetry and literature, subtlety introduce him to the game, the rules, and their respective parts in it.

She made him feel like he mattered to her, despite the fact that none of it was real. During the ball at the end of the game she might say “yes” but then she would go back to her own life just like he would.

He had loved and left plenty of girls before, he had expected this to be no different.  
Easier even, since not only would they not be sleeping together, the break up was pre-arranged.

She smiled at some line she was reading.

“

> _She walks in beauty, like the night_  
>  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
> and all that's best in dark and bright  
> Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
> Thus mellow'd to that tender light  
> Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 
> 
> _One shade the more, one ray the less,_  
>  Had half impair'd the nameless grace  
> Which waves in every raven tress,  
> or softly lightens o'er her face;  
> Where thoughts serenely sweet express  
> How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 
> 
> _And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,_  
>  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
> The smiles that win, the tints that glow;  
> But tell of days in goodness spent,  
> A mind at peace with all below,  
> A heart whose love is innocent! 

Lord Byron.  
It is one of my favorites.”

Genji's heart thundered in his chest.

It was not the same.  
It certainly wasn't _easier._

“Mr. Genji” she said looking at him with sudden seriousness and intensity.  
He flushed again.  
“Yes?”  
“Ants have gotten to your cake.”

Genji glanced down at his hand where the tiny cake he had been holding was now covered in black ants.

With a shout of sudden panic he tossed both the cake and the offending insects out into the grass.  
Ms. Zeigler failed miserably to hide her good natured giggles behind her hand.

“Were you bitten?” she asked.  
“We should probably head inside anyway. I have something back at the house to take care of any bites.”

She reached to start replacing things in the basket. Genji muttered some response (he wasn't sure what), and helped to pack up. If there were any bites on his hand they didn't hurt.

Genji hoisted the basket on one arm and held the other out to Ms. Zeigler and she smiled as she took it.

He tried to focus on her words as the two made their way back towards the house. He had regained a measure of his composure and had her laughing again as they stepped onto a gravel pathway.

He didn't feel his elbow buckle or the basket crash to the ground.

He stared dumbly at the book that had fallen out, sprawled in the dust looking like nothing so much as a corpse.

“Genji?”  
Ms. Zeigler was looking at him in concern.  
She had abandoned his proffered arm to clutch at his numb hand.

He tried to affect calm and toss out that bad boy smile again.

“oops,” he said, sheepishly.

He withdrew his hand and began putting the scattered contents of the basket back in order.  
Ms. Zeigler, however, was having none of it.

“Genji what happened?”  
“I dropped the basket. I'm sorry Ms. Zeigler. I did not mean to alarm you.”  
“I'm serious, Genji.”  
“Ms. Zeigler,” he tried again.  
“ _Doctor_ Zeigler,” she said waiving his attempts away.  
“Please,” she pleaded “tell me what's wrong.”  
It was so tempting.

Genji gritt his teeth and bit down on the urge to cry; to tell her everything.  
“I promise to tell you later. May we please go inside?”  
It would give him time to come up with something, _anything_.

Anything but the truth.

888

Hanzo quietly cooed at Alice, the horse he had spent the past few hours learning to ride.

He ran a brush over her coat and glanced over at McCree who was speaking to one of the stable hands. For a second he caught the other man’s gaze and quickly went back to brushing.

It had been quite the afternoon. As soon as they finished lunch Jesse had gotten him kitted out and had taken him back to the stable to meet Alice. She was apparently their most docile mare and used to new riders. He had instructed Hanzo in what to do with the same easy command he had used when showing him around the shotgun.

They had laughed and chatted amicably as Jesse had walked them around the paddock and then out onto one of the easier trails. Holding the reigns it was simultaneously easy and difficult to forget that Alice was about 5 times his size. He was both terrified of hurting her and painfully aware of how easily she could hurt him, if she chose.

McCree, however had been a calming presence, soothing to both horse and rider.

Speaking of, Hanzo took a steadying breath and attempted again to divine exactly how he felt about the other man.

He was crushing hard, that much he could admit, but while Hanzo was scrambling to make any sense out of his emotions, Genji seemed to be hearing wedding bells. 

He shook his head. It was all pointless anyway.  
Even if McCree could accept- even if he could reciprocate Hanzo’s feelings there was no way Hanzo could pursue anything anyway.  
It just wasn’t the life he was destined to have.

“Having fun?”  
Lost in his thoughts, Hanzo missed McCree sneaking up behind him; but here the man was, stroking Alice’s muzzle and giving her little kisses. As another first, Hanzo had never been jealous of a horse before.

“I’m about ready for a bath and some food,” he answered.  
Jesse smiled and took Hanzo's hand.  
“The boys can finish up here. Let’s go.”

He set aside the brush amd allowed himself to be dragged away as the groom Jesse had been talking to took over care of Alice.  
They meandered back towards the house.

“So,” McCree started, “How's the book coming?”

Hanzo started.  
Given the conversation with Genji the other day, his first thought was that McCree was referring to Pride and Prejudice before he remembered the manuscript.

“Good!” he answered with an embarrassed blush.  
“I will likely finish it tonight.”

They walked again in silence for a second while Hanzo decided on how to phrase the question he had desperately wanted to ask all day.

“McCree... What do you think of Mr. Darcy?”  
McCree smiled warmly.  
“You askin' Jesse or James?”  
Hanzo was dumbstruck for a second.  
“You did that on purporse!” He cried.  
Jesse burst into laughter.  
“Yeah, a little. But seriously, you really wanna know?”  
“That is why I asked.” Hanzo grumbled.  
Jesse went quiet for a second and Hanzo allowed him to arrange his thoughts.  
Jesse took a deep breath, face suddenly scarlet.

“Mr. Darcy was probably the man that made me realize I liked men.”  
It was an intimate confession and Hanzo's heart instantly began to hammer against his ribcage, his imagination running wild with possibility before he clamped down on it hard.

He agonized internally for a moment, his face a matching shade of red.

“When I was 14, Genji got me into this series of light novels based loosely on the Sengoku Jidai, Japan's “warring states” period.”  
Matsamune Date, who did exist historically, though I doubt he could actually summon a pair of mystical blue storm dragons to devour the souls of his enemies,... ahem... he performed the same office for me.”

Jesse stared wide eyed at him for a moment, blushing even hard if that were possible.  
“Mystical storm dragons...”  
“Yes”  
“devour the souls of his enemies...”  
“Indeed...”  
“and that's what you find attractive in a man?”  
“I WAS 14!!!”  
Mcree threw his head back in laughter again.

Hanzo grumbled some more but smiled at the sound.  
When he had calmed, Jesse raised an eyebrow at Hanzo.

“So why do you suddenly wanna know my thoughts on Darcy?”  
Hanzo hesitated.  
“I... have never actually finished Pride and Prejudice.”  
Jesse huffed his surprise.  
“Where you at in it?”  
“Kent? Darcy's letter?”  
McCree smiled.  
“Ah. The low point. Spoilers?”  
Hanzo thought about it.  
“Minor?”  
Jesse nodded.

“Thing I love the most about Darcy? He may be an awkward turtle, but he takes Lizzy at her word. When they meet again, and they do meet again, he treats her right. He ain't tryin' to win her or anything, just wants her to know that he took her seriously.  
He ain't posturing, just realizes that he has to put his pride aside, fight his considerable anxiety, and just treat people with some damn respect. He is, in his way, honorable.”

Hanzo frowned.  
“What about what he did to Jane and Bingly?”  
A furrow appeared between Jesse's eyebrows.  
“We can’t say for sure, since Austen didn’t write scenes between men with no women present since she didn’t wanna presume how guys talked when they were by themselves, but she makes it sound like he apologized and he was explicit in that he was happy they got together. Oh! Spoiler! Jane and Bingly end up together.  
Anyway a lot of Darcy being a dick and clinging to his pride was anxiety. And I can think of at least one person I know who knows what it’s like to be a dick because he’s nervous.”  
He side eyed Hanzo but there was no condemnation in his face. Hanzo cast his eyes at his feet in shame anyway.

“Ahem. Anyway.  
That's just... yeah.  
When I do romantic storylines, I try to impart something about what am man should me, how he outta treat his partner. Darcy was my first example of that. Well, one of the first ones. First one ain't ever wore a cowboy hat.”

He smirked.  
Hanzo felt his cheeks heat again.

“I understand. Perhaps I shall give him another chance.”

Jesse smiled brightly.  
“You gonna finish my book first?”  
Hanzo didn't trust himself to answer, but he knocked his shoulder into Jesse's as they approached the house.

They parted ways at the top of the stairs.

Hanzo wanted to speak again with Genji privately but by the time he finished his shower and change he was very nearly late for dinner.  
When he arrived in the dining room everyone else was already seated.

Genji had clearly stepped in it with Ms. Zeigler. He was all forced smiles and laughter trying to make her forget whatever it was he had done.

Hanzo doubted it would actually work.

He sighed to himself. It seemed the magic of Genji's black hair had worn off and he was up to old tricks.  
He would ask about it later.

Ms. Vaswani was deep in conversation with Ms. Lindholm and Mr. McCree who kept apologizing for abandoning her all day. Hanzo took his seat and thanked the girl who set a bowl of soup down in front of him.

He traded a significant look with Ms. Vaswani. She was clearly demanding the details of his afternoon with McCree, when a sharp ringing burst forth from the far end of the table.

Sir Reignhardt stood, towering over his guests and sporting a devious grin.

“My friends! With little more than a week until the ball, I have been thinking about what we all might do to pass the time and have hit upon the most GLORIOUS idea!  
We shall put on... a theatrical!”

888

In the quiet of his room, Genji curled around the book of poetry he had only hours earlier been reading with Ms. Zeigler.

In the chaos that had followed Sir Reinhardt's announcement in had been stupidly easy to slip away after supper. Convincing Hanzo to leave him be had been harder, but he promised that they could talk tomorrow. Now he just had to hope that Hanzo would forget.

Not likely.

Genji held the book tighter in shame.

He hated lying to Hanzo, but at this point he was used to it.  
What he really hated was lying to Ms. Zeigler.

Any lie, however, seemed better than the alternative.

Anger boiled in his gut. How dare _reality_ intrude here?  
This place was supposed to be his dream.  
His fairy tale.  
A fantasy where he was a good man.  
A fantasy where he was an honest man.  
A fantasy where he wasn't sick.

But no.

The bubble had burst and he had reverted back to his true self, it seemed.

A man who lied.  
A man who flirted and charmed and hoped to hell that no one saw the twisted creature underneath.

A lamp burned low on his nightstand but it was otherwise dark in his room.  
He heard footsteps down the hall and saw the silhouette of feet under his door.

He waited, dreading the knock but it never came.

Eventually, whoever it was must have taken pity on him and they left.  
He turned away from the door and opened the book, flipping to a random page.

> _Where shall the traitor rest,_  
>  He, the deceiver,  
> who could win a maidens breast,  
> Ruin and leave her?  
> In the lost battle,  
> Borne down by the flying,  
> Where mingles war's rattle  
> With groans of the dying;  
> Eleu loro  
> There shall he be lying. 
> 
> _Her wing shall the eagle flap_  
>  O'er the falsehearted;  
> His warm blood the wolf shall lap  
> Ere his life be parted. 
> 
> _Shame and dishonour sit_  
>  By his grave ever,  
> Blessing shall hallow it  
> Never, O never!  
> Eleu loro  
> Never, O never. 

_How fitting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a hot minute since I’ve done an End Note, but I got things to say.
> 
> First of all I wanna thank everyone who’s been leaving comments. It helps. So much.  
> So, seriously: Thank you  
> I’m sorry it takes so long for me to respond.  
> I super wanna thank @Robo-Crypted and @Swagreus1 over on Twitter for RTing every chapter post. Y’alls faith in me is heady. 💚
> 
> Anyhoo come follow me over on Twitter @Tomyris_Darkward and watch me make stuff.
> 
> Alrighty!  
> Poetry!  
> Here are the works I’ve included in this chapter:
> 
> “County Guy”, Sir Walter Scott 1867  
> https://www.gsarchive.net/sullivan/songs/county/guy.html
> 
> “She Walks In Beauty”, Lord Byron 1814  
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43844/she-walks-in-beauty
> 
> “Ereu Loro”, Sir Walter Scott (date unknown)  
> https://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poem/eleu_loro_7419

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how much I wanted to write "it is all very vexing!" at the end of literally every sentence I wrote for the mom.
> 
> Anyway. Thank you so much for reading, lemme know what you thought in the comments below.  
> If you're interested in McHanzo, books, Austen, and history (and crafting?), that's pretty much all that's on my Twitter if you would like to follow me @TomyrisDarkward
> 
> Thanks again and I'll see you next week.


End file.
